


Addicted

by she_rhapsody



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jeresa, QOTS, Queen of the South - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_rhapsody/pseuds/she_rhapsody
Summary: James reflects on his relationship with Teresa. One-shot. POV James. Inspired by the quote: “I wish I knew how to quit you” (Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain)
Relationships: Teresa Mendoza/James Valdez
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Addicted

**Author's Note:**

> Finally a James POV fic. So excited to write this one and delve into his psyche a little. Let me know what you think.

_“I wish I knew how to quit you” (Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain)_

**

The first time – upstairs – is like sparks catching fire.

Both of us, broken, hungry for the heat. We’re reckless too, not worrying if Pote hears something, suspects anything. 

It feels _good_ , fucking better than anything I’ve felt. 

We steal moments between work and all the madness...a furtive squeeze of fingers, a caress, a breathless kiss in a dark corner. And sometimes, when the luxury of time is on our side, glorious sun-drenched afternoons in her bedroom or mine, tangled in sheets, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Her hair fanning out over the pillow, or caressing my skin, all reservation stripped from her face. Those moments are my favourite, when I _see_ her, clear as day, a bright spot of sunshine in the midst of my swirling darkness.

If I close my eyes, I can recite every detail; the tiny spot on the bottom of her foot, the scar peeking out from the crook of her elbow, the way her hips arch in pleasure (her hands in my hair, demanding my tongue slide in deeper), the perfect points of her breasts. Even her _smile_ flips my stomach, a guttural punch every time I see it light up the room.

Some days, she's content to listen, letting me fill in blank spaces with thoughts and memories, whispering long into the night until my mouth runs dry. I talk about my childhood, the military, my father. Big fat things I’ve never told anyone. I see her calm, steady gaze and feel grounded. 

Most days, there is no time for talking at all…

With all the girls before, it was easy… and it was empty. Slips of paper with numbers scrawled on them would slide into my pocket, women would linger a moment longer (after their friends had left for the night), hotel rooms would blur together…

Kim told me once that I lacked empathy. That I was selfish. A narcissist. A workaholic. She wasn’t exactly a piece of cake herself...but I guess I can see where she was coming from. She wanted more of me than I was ready to give. I’d always told myself, _in this business you can’t afford to get emotionally invested._

Then Teresa came along and blew that to pieces. 

I know it can't last. I _know_ this. Every time we’re together is dangerous. For us, and for everyone around us. An uneasy kind of dread has lodged itself in my stomach lately – made visceral every time Teresa walks out of a room, out of the building, into a meeting, into her car…a target on her back. The list of enemies keeps getting longer – and my unease keeps growing faster.

Teresa’s strong...but this business has broken stronger people than her. 

I told her she was being stupid that day she betrayed Camila and ran with the maid. Funny how the jokes on me now. _I'm_ the one being stupid, putting our lives in jeopardy. I should end it… for both our sakes. But I can’t. I’m like an addict, desperate for my next hit. Teresa is the only thing that makes sense, the only thing that makes it worth it. 

Outside, sunlight is starting to trickle through the window. The house won’t be awake yet. I grab my jeans and pull a shirt over my head. 

Teresa comes out of the shower, bare-legged, buttoning up a silk shirt. Her hair is straight, slicked back. Ready for business. I can read her well now, attuned to her expressions and body language. Instantly I’m alert, wary. 

"Something's come up," she says, locating her pants. "I have to go."

“I’ll take you.” The offer is immediate, unquestioning.

“Pote’ll drive,” Teresa says, shaking her head. “You deserve a break. A sleep in…” She raises an eyebrow at my already-dressed state.

I shrug. “Military thing.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” whispers Teresa, squeezing my hand. 

There are things I want to say. 

_Don’t leave._

_I’m making breakfast._

_I love you._

Huge cavernous things that die on my lips.

Instead I sigh and kiss her softly. “I wish I knew how to quit you.”


End file.
